It can be tricky going to MOMA. Sometimes you see something sublime and feel inspired. Sometimes you (meaning I) feel confused and hopeless. Tonight, being recognized by the curators at MOMA looks to me like it just might have more to do with luck and politics than with the quality of your work.
Heading home, I gave the dollar I'd found on the sidewalk to this gentleman playing a harp in the subway. He was playing a lively and joyful song that filled the station, not the usual corny stuff I think of as harp music that screams 'flashback'. I looked for the boombox accompanying him but there was none. He was making this huge and beautiful sound all by himself. He smiled and half-bowed to me in gratitude for the dollar.